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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904990">Becoming One with the Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind'>Dawnwind</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miami Vice (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of a firefight is always the worst. Coming together when the day is done is what makes life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sonny Crockett/Ricardo Tubbs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Becoming One with the Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Becoming One with the Stars</p><p>Lying on the bow of the St. Vitus Dance, Rico Tubbs tried to let the events of the day melt away. It had been one for the record books, but staring up at the night sky was, if not invigorating, then at the very least what he needed to continue existing. </p><p>The spray of stars visible despite Miami’s light pollution was not as spectacular as if he’d been drifting past an island in the Bahamas—with a glass of rum and orange juice in his fist—but it was breathtaking, all the same. Made even the least contemplative person on earth consider the origins of the cosmos.</p><p>“Rico?” </p><p>Sonny’s whiskey rough voice cut through Tubbs’ thoughts like a dolphin slicing the waves, simultaneously irritating and achingly perfect.</p><p>“Yeah?” Rico had loosened the knot on his purple Hugo Boss tie and pulled the length of silk from his collar before taking a sip of his drink. There were so many other things he should have been doing: following protocol after firing his weapon, filling out realms of paperwork, not to mention arrest records, and reports on their visit to the hospital, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. </p><p>Praise God, Allah, or whoever the hell kept Miami’s finest safe that they’d both escaped—again—with minor wounds. He had a mild concussion, the result of that damned cocaine dealer’s girlfriend’s rolling pin. He should be downing a couple Tylenol as the overworked resident at Miami Gen had prescribed, but the rum and OJ went down so much better.</p><p>Sonny had a couple butterfly strips across the bloody streak along the right side of his head from a bullet that had ruined his sixty-five dollar haircut. An inch to the right and he’d be flat out on a slab in the morgue.</p><p>That was the terrifying part. Rico ruthlessly subsumed his own fear, and his love for James ‘Sonny’ Crockett into the deep pit he usually kept them, and raised up on his elbow to gaze at his partner. “Just had to say my name?”</p><p>“You ever think about heaven and hell?” Sonny asked, arms behind his head, looking up at the moon half hidden behind a heap of nightblue clouds.</p><p>The nasty wound on the left side of Sonny’s head looked worse this close. Disturbed Rico in ways he didn’t like to think about. “Not often.” He took another drink and passed the glass over to Sonny. The alcohol didn’t do a thing for the pain in Rico’s skull, but it blurred all his other reactions. Maybe he’d poured in too much rum. Maybe not enough.</p><p>“I mean, if what we do dooms us to one place or th’other.” Sonny took a long drag on his cigarette, the end blossoming bright orange in the darkness, releasing acrid tobacco smoke into the air. He put his lips on the edge of the glass, swallowing half the contents. </p><p>“Are you and I going to hell?” Rico asked skeptically. Trust Sonny to get morose and introspective when they’d dodged death’s hand once again. Sonny could dive into the depths at his own kid’s birthday party. Simply his nature: he played the reckless charmer with a bottle of rye and a rifle to the hilt, and yet underneath was a marshmallow softie who would rescue a kitten in the middle of a firefight. Then let Elvis eat said kitten afterward. “You mean on the job or—“</p><p>“And off.” Sonny looked him in the eye, reaching out to unbutton Rico’s lavender Egyptian cotton shirt. “Is it more of a sin to think about sex, or act on it?”</p><p>“Both, I expect.” Rico said lazily, breathing into the flat of Sonny’s palm on his pectoral. Did more for his headache than any analgesic. “Course, you’re speculating on Calvinistic pre-destiny versus Catholic free will.”</p><p>“Knew you’d get to the heart of the matter.” Sonny leaned in, kissing him.</p><p>Rico latched on, tasting that unique Sonny concoction of tobacco flavored with the sweetness of their shared rum punch and the smokiness of Jack Daniels. “We should go down below,” he managed between kisses with his lover.</p><p>“Elvis is napping,” Sonny replied, cupping Rico’s groin.</p><p>“Evict the gator,” Rico said, moving out of the way of Sonny’s groping hand. “We might be incurring the wrath of God, but it’s IA and local moral ordinances that we should be more concerned with.” They really were in their cups if he had to explain something as basic as that.</p><p>Sonny barked a laugh, climbing to his knees. “It’ll astonish the hell out of half the populace that Miami has any moral ordinances.”</p><p>“C’mon, Sonny.” Rico pulled him upright. “Give Elvis the heave ho so we can…”</p><p>“Dance,” Sonny finished with an astonishingly sweet grin. He flicked his cigarette butt over the side of the boat, fiery sparks flickering in the dark, and clamored down the companionway. </p><p>Elvis was dealt with as quickly as was possible with a full-grown alligator while Rico fiddled with the little radio in Sonny’s cabin.  The air was thick as soup below deck, layered with old cigarette smoke and cloying humidity. The slow burn of Sade’s <i>Sweetest Taboo</i> rose into Rico’s consciousness like an enchantment.</p><p>Sonny put his arms around Rico from behind, rocking them together to the beat of the music. Rico could feel the blunt heaviness of Sonny’s cock against his ass through their trousers and wanted that inside him immediately.</p><p>“Castillo’s gonna have our hides for skipping on the paperwork,” Sonny said, dipping his head onto Rico’s shoulder, lips on the pulse at his neck.</p><p>Felt like he was feeding Sonny life, giving him strength. Conversely, it provided him assurance and hope, that they were there, together, alone. “This ain’t hell, Sonny,” he said softly, turning so he could put both hands on Sonny’s face, fix on those eyes filled with such chaos and pain, to drain a little of that away. </p><p>“Never will be, lover.” Sonny went to his knees without another word, pushing Rico gently onto the berth so he could unzip his fly. </p><p>The gray pinstriped silk slacks puddled around his ankles and Rico shuffled his feet to kick them away from the action. Felt damned good when Sonny slid his fingers under Rico’s shaft, letting the back of his hand brush against the sensitive testicles.</p><p>Rico leaned back on his hands so he could watch Sonny go down on him, admire the meticulous way he coaxed Rico’s shaft to a pulsating cock leaking pre-cum. Arousal took over his senses, building to a crescendo that erased all the horror and violence, replacing it with bliss. </p><p>Sonny sucked in Rico’s cock, swirling his tongue around the tip in a complicated pattern that Rico wanted to last forever. His orgasm exploded far too soon and yet not soon enough, leaving him panting with a post-coital headache. </p><p>“Damn, Burnett,” he drawled, using Sonny’s undercover alias like a <i>nom d’amour.</i> Behind his eyelids, stars burst and comets raced across the heavens. “You could patent your technique.” </p><p>“Now what would be the fun of that?” Sonny hooked onto an open bottle of bourbon that was holding down a stack of bills on the cluttered desk and poured some down his throat. “It’s my claim to fame.”</p><p>“You can stake that claim on me any time,” Rico said roughly. His head was pounding like tribal drums in some Tarzan movie, distant but brutal. </p><p>“Might do just that.” Sonny smiled, feral as a stalking panther. He flipped off his pale blue t-shirt, tanned chest somehow glowing in the low light from the overhead fixture.</p><p>Rico loved those little nipples, loved running his fingers across Sonny’s chest to feel them perk up tightly. He mouthed the left one when Sonny pressed him back against the pillows. </p><p>Taking a step away, Sonny toed out of his loafers, stripping off his linen slacks and tight little briefs with an eye on his captive audience of one. Bereft at the loss of his toys, Rico tented his knees to watch.</p><p>Standing naked as a jaybird, as Rico’s mama used to say, Sonny was otherworldly gorgeous, those tipped eyes and high cheek bones evoking images of elves and satyrs. Took Rico’s breath away. That, and the realization that except for a mere inch to the right, none of this would be happening, or would ever happen again.</p><p>“God,” he whispered, not sure whether he was praying or blaspheming. Both at the same time.<br/>. <br/>“Gonna send us straight to heaven,” Sonny assured, the cocky bastard he used as a mask suddenly there to cover his nudity. </p><p>“C’mere, Sonny.” Rico reached for him, wanting the feel of that man, flawed and dysfunctional, but also marvelous and oddly kind, on him, surrounding him. To bind together his own broken pieces.</p><p>“Yeah.” Sonny settled between his knees, leaning over Rico, green eyes bright. “You called me both names,” he said, pushing one of the pillows under Rico’s butt. “Who am I, really?” The lube they’d used only a few days before was on the porthole sill, exactly where they’d left it. Sonny smeared ointment on the end of his stiffened cock, and hissed as if mere touch were too much. </p><p>Rico molded his fingers around the shaft, gently spreading the slick gel all over so it would slide inside his asshole. </p><p>Sonny hitched another breath, hands on Rico’s knees to steady himself, and shuddered. His head arched back in ecstasy, entire body tense with need. “Cause sometimes, I don’t know…”</p><p>“You don’t know who you are, lover?” Rico ran his slippery hand up Sonny’s flat belly to his nipples again, feeling him breathe, grateful for the chance to be with him. “You’re Sonny, <i>m</i>y Sonny.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Sonny bent down, positioning himself to get the best angle. He let Rico help guide his cock into place, their hands intertwined around the shaft. </p><p>Rico loved the contrasts: his cinnamon brown against Sonny’s sun-brushed bronze, the blond of Sonny’s pubic hairs mingling with his own jet black curls. His cock lay spent against his leg as Sonny nudged his erection into Rico’s tight hole. As always, the first seconds were intense until his inner muscles widened and stretched as they were penetrated.</p><p>“Damn,” Rico whispered, pulling his bent knees into his torso to give Sonny more space. The cramping burn was fleeting, a painful part of the process.</p><p>“Lord almighty,” Sonny murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he eased forward, his chest heaving as he buried himself inside Rico. “This is salvation.“</p><p>“Like knocking on heaven’s door…” Rico gasped when Sonny’s slow, rhythmic thrusts grazed that magical place, spiralling him into the Milky Way, flying on an unexpected second orgasm.</p><p>Sonny shot inside him, ramming his hole hard enough to shove Rico against the bulkhead. His head was bad but the rest of him was very, very good. </p><p>With a rebel yell, Sonny collapsed, easing half out of Rico’s body to curl into him on the narrow berth. “Nothin’ better’n sex,” he muttered, “’Cept my damn fool head feels like it was cracked in half.”</p><p>“Makes two of us,” Rico said with his eyes closed, no longer resisting the pull of sleep. Sonny was a weight on his chest, but that meant he knew exactly where Sonny was, and that he was alive. “We survived, lover, and that’s what’s important.”</p><p>“Survived to fight another day, huh?” Sonny put his head alongside Rico’s, their whiskery cheeks pressed together. “Some day—“</p><p>“Don’t say it,” Rico spoke into his ear, dreading that moment in their future. “We’re stars, babe, a fixed moment in time.”</p><p>“Forever and always,” Sonny said as he fell into sleep.</p><p>Rico lay there for a long time, listening to the creak of the wooden boat, the splash of water against the hull, and his lover breathing. </p><p>FIN</p>
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